What They Whisper
by CarlaConnor13
Summary: *servere trigger warning* Carla is haunted and complies to what they tell her must be done - Carchelle mentioned.


***TRIGGER WARNING* Detailed description of self harm, reading discretion advised. **

She'd sat cross legged on her bed at the pub, arm held out in front of her, fist clenched, eyes firm and unwavering. In the other hand a yellow lighter was gripped firmly between her fingers which turned a pasty colour with the pressure.

_Carla had watched from where she was curled up on the sofa earlier that night, as Michelle had snatched it from the hold of a punter, fag between tooth and top lip. Michelle had opened the second draw next to the fridge in the kitchen, hiding the small item behind bowls._

_An adequate hiding spot Carla had depicted, and it wasnt until later that night, sat alone, awake, head rested on the cool headboard that she'd remembered Michelle's previous actions._

**Get it Carla, you deserve it.** **Go on, get it!**

_Pink, sore eyes were now wide,__ scanning the dimly moonlit room, finding no source for the haunting voices that cut deep into her conscious, making her stomach cramp and roll painfully._

**You're going to pay!**

_This time it was the twisted voice of Rana that hissed into her ear, voice strained and raspy. Carla rocked herself back and forth on the bed, hands clasped firmly offer her ears in an attempt to quieten the haunting voices that plagued her. Pinching her eyes closed; she remained in the position she has always adopted when scared since being a child._

_The room door squeaked open, Carla cringing, praying that everyone was asleep as to not be disturbed by the gentle creak of the stairs as she edged down them, finally siting and sliding down, which she'd found minimalises the noise of the aged stairs_.

Once back in the saftey of her room, the closed door giving her the security she convinced herself she craved. Her hands turned the lighter over, again and again, a continuous action, almost like she was performing a sacred ritual, face trance like.

The pop of the flint on steel made her jump unexpectedly, the item dropping from her grasp, the heated up metal from the flame stinging her leg where it now lay.

Cocking her head to the side, Carla breathed heavily, basking in the calm she now felt. However brief, as panic washed over her again, sparking up her heart rate as she looked over her shoulder, finding nothing but the blank wall that stared back

**Again. Longer. Hotter. Deeper.**

Voices emalgamated into vicious chants, over and over the same words, Carla's lips forming the words alongside them.

The click of the lighter and the spark it gave off was inviting to Carla, lulling her into a false sense of security, before the sharp pinching pain of fire on her delicate skin broke her trance.

Closing her eyes, willing herself to do this to bring some sort of punishment to ease her aching guilt. The flame licked hotly at the hairs that stood straight on the womans arm. The hairs retreated, curling and blackening under the close proximity of the fire, burning and shrivelling closer to the skin.

When she couldnt withstand the pain that ripped through every part of her arm she threw the ofending object harshly onto the carpeted floor, a soft thud emitting.

Carla inspected her arm, stroking the skin and wincing at the hot pain that still radiated there angrily. She prodded and poked, willing for her skin to make a reaction, turn red or blotchy but it stayed pale and mottled, as it was hours earlier.

Angry at how little an affect the fire had had on her skin, not so much as a red mark on her clear arm, she furiously scratched at where she'd held the lighter just minutes earlier. A involuntary hiss escaped from between her pursed lips as Carla noticed the skin that was left under her nails. A rush of tranquility rode through the woman, stilling her quaking hands. Her once unmarred arm was now harshly red, lines of darkened skin where her nails had seeked refuge. Tiny speckled droplets of blood pushed their way to the surface, pooling in tiny orbs on the raw skin.

**You think that enough? MURDERER.**

They taunted the woman, who let a whimper escape, turning to retrieve the lighter again, whispers flicking off her tongue 'again. longer. hotter. deeper'.

This time, Carla made no attempt to stem the tears, letting them run freely down her clammy, pasty face, splashing onto her legs, which had broken out in goosebumps,chilling her to the bone despite the heat held firmly to her arm.

Beads of cool sweat formed on her brow, droplets pooling at her temples, making her frame shiver, unable to hold the yellow lighter still against her now bloodied, raw arm.

**Scratch it Carla, act like the _Bitch_ you are!**

She complied, all strength having left her body, weakened to the core. The lighter was soon discarded in her top draw, sitting on top of her trousers, draw slammed shut in Carla's haste to sleep, shake off the pain that seemed to be everywhere now.

Falling back into the bed, voices now quietened Carla inhaled deeply, nose detecting a sickly scent of burning that hung heavily in the room, one that would no doubt remain the following morning, possibly arousing suspicion from those alseep in the closest rooms. Peering down at her arm, the skin wet from something that seeped through from inside her, glistening in the light, Carla sickly thought there was something so poetically beautiful about the way the moonlight caught the burns.

The searing pain in her arm, ebbing from the patchy pink skin that had been rubbed raw by the bed sheets, rendered sleep impossible. Her brain alight with pictures of Rana, blued faced and donning her shredded gown. They returned everytime the woman closed her eyes, permanently painted on the inside of her eyelids.

Her eyes burned ironically as she strained to keep them open, grabbing the water bottle Chelle had presented her with. Splashing herself in the face with it, causing releif to once again flood through her fragile state.

Carla dripped the water cautiously onto her wounds, aware that the poison may sting it, but anxious for release from the searing pain that graced her every move.

Rolling her pyjama top down, wincing at the contact of cotton on raw, bruised skin. She much sooner leave her sleeves rolled up past her elbows, but knowing should they come and watch her while she slept, they'd _love _that they'd reduced her to this.

At some point the pain took over Carla's weak façade and she fell into a restless slumber, plagued with nightmares and Rana's gaunt, sagged face, slowly moving body that Carla couldnt run from, frozen in fear.

The light ripped harshly through the curtains the next morning, providing no solace for the quaking woman as she woke, eyes blacken from her thrashing blindly, trapped in her dreams.

When dressing, she momentarily forgot of the wounds she'd inflicted upin herself last night, tugging her top harshly off in one motion. Pain ripped through her, an involuntary cry rippling from her lungs. Her arm was a deep shade of purple, wounds now reopened from where they had fused to the cotton of her top, now seeping horribly, red and grey fibres of her pyjama top still stuck to the edges, making her gag uncontrollably, a deep, throaty retching sound filling the room.

She flung her window open to clear the air which had become increasingly stuffy and now threatened to choke her.

Michelle and Johnny were preparing to open up the bar the following afternoon, having been closed that day for decorations to adorn the walls. The pub was to he host for a special talent show night in memory of Aiden, it having been exactly a year since he had been discovered in the bathroom of his flat.

The Connors had ultimately decided that it wouldn't be a day of grief or sadness, but one filled with joy and the bubble of laughter. It had been Kate's idea for a talent show despite her demise to the Websters house since Carla had been ordered to move in, Michelle convinced she was ill, wanting to keep an eye on her, not listening to the objections from the small brunette.

There was a chill to the air, even though it was well into spring, which caused the heating bill to rapidly increase, heaters on full and the fire never dead during opening times.

'Michelle, have you seen the lighter? I swear I put it down under the bar yesterday after lighting the fire but now I can't for the life of me find it' he shouted, standing up abruptly from where he was crouched in search. "oawhh" he cursed under his breath as the back of his head harshly made contact with the underside of the bar, 'God damn it! CHELLE!'

The womans head appeared around the door in the back room, hands covered with the ridiculous oven gloves that boasted both Johnny and Jenny's faces on each mitt. Carla had found it hilarious as she'd watched him open them last Christmas, clasping her hands together in delight.

'Sorry Johnny, I was taking the sausage rolls out the oven.' she paused, grinning at Johnny's mock disgust at the mitts. 'yeah, sorry! Lighter. There's one in the back, ill grab it now'. Peeling the oven gloves off and watching momentarily as he turned back to clean the bar, Michelle turned, waltzing into the kitchen past Carla who had adapted her now common position of being curled up on the couch.

She knelt by the cupboard, reaching her hand blindly into the back corner of the cupboard, head rested on the door. Feeling the back of the cupboard, she slowly closed her fingers, expecting the small lighter to be enclosed but instead she felt nothing.

Pulling her arm out of the cupboard, Michelle replaced it with her head, peering inside, brows furrowed when no lighter was hidden there.

"Sorry Johnny, it's not here! You gunna have to go to Dev's" she called out, hoisting herself up and closing the door slowly. She could have sworn that was where she had put the lighter last night, in fact, she'd be ready to swear it in front of anyone.

Pushing the thought to the back of her head, having more urgent matters to attend to today, she bundled Carlas carefully folded clothes into her arms, hurrying to place them in her draws before the woman stirred and accused her of snooping.

Truth be told, Michelle was fearful for the older woman, who'd seemingly shrunk in the past few weeks, curled back up into her defensive ball of self distruct, rhis time however, keeping her sharp tongue and accusing tone, she thought everyone's moves where to destroy her, and it frightened the taller woman.

Happy that Carla was going to remain on the couch, she let herself into the quiet room, confused as to why the window was wide open on this freezing spring morning. Not closing it to avoid arousing suspicion, she neatly packed Carla's tops into the bottom draw.

Opening the top draw to pack the jeans back, Michelle's breath hitched at the contrast of the yellow lighter on Carla's black jeans. Her fingers grazed over it, retracting them almost instantly as a thought entered her mind.

Snatching the lighter from where it lay, and shoving it into her back pocket, she forced back tears which would in no sense help the situation she may find herself in. Once again trying to bring her best friend back from the edge. She hoped she was wrong, because she feared this time the woman would not be saved.

Michelle now stood at the foot of the stairs, silently observing Carla. The way she clutched the bottom of her sleeves, wincing in pain as she repositioned on the sofa. She took in the way Carla's eyes seemed to hollow, and how her eyes darted around the room manically, looking more like a trapped animal that her best friend.

'Oh sweetheart what's happened to you?'

**In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have made myself write this while I was feeling so low. I naively thought it would help but its just pushed me further away from reality. I'm really struggling at the moment so their won't be any more stories for a while. I just want to thank you for your continued support and I'm always here if you want to talk. I'm just forever grateful to Alison King for giving me something to grasp onto. I owe her my life, now several times over.**


End file.
